Harry Potter and the Chrestomanci
by Jess S1
Summary: Enchanters are both strange and powerful. The strongest enchanter's have nine lives and are known as 'Chrestomanci'.
1. Prologue: Chrestomanci

Disclaimer: I own the plot, I apologize if it's been done before. 

The _Harry Potter_ Series belongs to _J.K. Rowling_.

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The Chronicles of Chrestomanci belong to _Diana Wynne Jones_.  
  
AN: Hi! This is a crossover between Harry Potter _The Chronicles of Chrestomanci_ by _Diana Wynne Jones_. I've only read the first volume of the series, so that's what this crossover is based on. I can't say anything for any of the following novels, but I definitely recommend Volume 1, it's fantastic! I realized a little while ago that the story could very easily be altered to tie into the Harry Potter fandom, so I decided to give it a try.... I'll probably talk more at the end (of this 'chapter'), but until then; Enjoy!

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Harry Potter and the Chrestomanci 

by Jess S

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"There are thousands of worlds, all different from ours..."

Some are_ "full of people working magic -_

Warlocks, witches," wizards, 

__

"thaumaturges, sorcerers, fakirs, conjurors, hexers, magicians, 

shamans, diviners and many more - 

From the lowest certified witch right up to the most powerful enchanters.

Enchanters are strange as well as powerful.

There magic is different and stronger 

And many of them have more than one life..."

...

"...The very strongest enchanter... has nine lives and is known as "the Chrestomanci".

He has a very strong personality as well as strong magic.

~ A slightly altered version of _Diana W. Jones'_

  
**Prologue: Chrestomanci?**

It was a hot and humid on this summer day, even though the light of the sun had not pierce the dark clouds that spanned across the sky in several days. And this was also before the sun had technically even risen to start the day...

This fact didn't seem to register in the mind of the irate near-fifteen-year-old boy who sat on his bed in the smallest bedroom at number four Privet Drive. No, he seemed to be far too preoccupied with the letter that he held in his hand, and was currently glaring at with incredibly green eyes. Another letter, written on the same, yellowish parchment as they one he held, rested on the pillow beside him.

This boy was none other than Harry Potter, known to the Wizarding, and much of the Magical World, as the Boy-Who-Lived. He was glaring at a letter from one of his best friends, Ronald Weasley, the other letter was from his other best friend, Hermione Granger...

Both said essentially the same things, almost word for word, and following the same line of thought as every other letter they'd written to him this summer. No matter how much he pestered or hinted, he always got the same responses;

__

We can't say much about you-know-what, obviously... 

We've been told not to say anything important in case our letters go astray... 

We're quite busy, but I can't give you details here... 

There's a fair amount going on, we'll tell you everything when we see you...

That about summed all of their letter's up, although they were often filled with multiple apologies and unexplained complaints (in Ron's case)... So Harry was, more or less, furious...

It was obvious that they knew at least a few things they weren't saying... probably on Dumbledore's orders... And he couldn't find anything any other way either... The hadn't been any strange occurrences in the Muggle news, from what he could tell, for his relatives never really let him listen... And there'd been absolutely _nothing_ worth reading in the _Daily Prophet_! All it had was jokes about him and Dumbledore and their friends... constantly discrediting them....

Harry's attention suddenly brought back from his thoughts, as the letter he was holding burst into flames... 

Startled, he dropped it... It was reduced to ashes long before it hit the floor...

He stared in surprise for several moments afterwards before blinking, as he realized what had undoubtedly happened. This realization caused him to groan.

There were times when a witch or wizard might lose control of their magic when they were extremely angry, frightened, or sad... It'd happened to him before. The most recent time being the summer before last, when his Uncle's sister, Marge, had come to visit. When she'd started insulting his parents, Harry had simply lost control of his magic, turning her into the equivalent of a human balloon that rose towards the ceiling as it slowly inflated. 

That wasn't really what bothered him... the sight of the flaming letter had actually made him feel a little better... But he wasn't allowed to do magic away from school, because he was underage... 

And while it _had_ been accidental, the Minister would certainly _love_ the chance to expel him from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Which was undoubtedly the reason for the screech owl that swept in through his window a moment later, a rather official looking envelope in its talons.

Harry quickly caught the letter as the owl swept over head before sweeping back around and perching on the end of his bed. His heart pounding, the Wizarding teen quickly tore the envelope open and retrieved the letter it contained. He quickly read through the letter, his insides getting colder and colder with each word.

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Dear Mr. Potter,

We have received intelligence that an ignition charm was performed at your place of residence at four minutes to five this morning. 

You know that underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and as you have already received an official warning for a previous offense, this has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Ministry officials will be at your place of residency shortly to destroy your wand. Any further offenses may result in severe repercussions, such as a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic.

Hoping you are well, 

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Mafalda Hopkirk

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Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

Harry read through the letter several times after reading it the first, but it remained the same. Inside his head, all was icy and numb... he didn't notice the air around quickly cooling to match his mood, or the fact that the ominous clouds, which hadn't released a single drop of rain since they moved in three days before, suddenly began to pour...

He had been expelled from Hogwarts... That was the only thing that his mind could grasp... everything else was fleeting and vague. He couldn't go _home_ come September...

Well... he most certainly couldn't stay _here_! 

And that thought brought him back to full conscious thought as he began to quickly pack all of his belongings into his trunk... 

After barely a moment's hesitation, Harry waved his wand at Hedwig's currently empty cage, murmuring, "_Minuere,_" and causing it to shrink, before he threw it into the trunk. After removing one of his semi-Wizarding outfits and putting it on, he used the same charm to shrink the trunk, and quickly pocketed it. He slipped his wand into his pocket. His outfit was Wizarding because, one, he'd bought it in Diagon Alley, and two, it was a little too formal in appearance for ordinary Muggle attire...

With a quick glance around the small bedroom, to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything, he sighed. "She can find me wherever I go... " He reminded himself, remembering the time he'd run off before third year, and Hedwig had reached the Leaky Cauldron before he had.

Harry shook his head before quickly turning towards the door. 

~ * ~

As the Dursleys hadn't yet awaken when he'd left, Harry didn't bother trying to say goodbye leaving a short, none-telling note, before exiting the house. Now he found himself making his way down Privet Drive in the early morning light. The sun had probably just risen, but you couldn't really tell, mainly because the clouds blocked all the light. 

It didn't really matter to him though. All it meant was he'd be harder to follow; no witnesses. He wasn't however _entirely_ sure that assumption was true, so he did glance around several times along the way. He did so again as he vaulted the locked park gate and set off across the parched grass, making his way to the swing set. Of course, it couldn't _really_ be called a 'set', as Dudley and his gang had broken all but one of the swings. It was that swing that he now sank down onto, wrapping his right arm around the chain as he glanced around again. The park was as empty as the surrounding streets...

So why did he feel like he was being watched?

'_Great,_' Harry shook his head in disgust, '_Now I'm really getting paranoid... at least the media can't put any 'creative' spin on that... they around thought I was paranoid before... although I'm not sure that's the right term...._'

"You are not paranoid...." a rich, baritone came from behind him.

Startled, Harry quickly jumped up and spun around. 

There stood a tall man with dark, smooth hair and garments to rival a Malfoy for fashion. The man did not seem the least bit bothered by the fact that he looked extraordinarily out of place in the vandalized Muggle park, with his shiny boors placed firmly on the dehydrated ground. Nor did he seem the least bit bothered by the temperature...

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, after a moment's pause.

The man offered a pleasant smile, "I highly doubt someone your age will recognize my name, face, or title, but in answer to your question; I am Christopher Chant, the Chrestomanci."

Harry blinked, "The what?"

The older wizard's - for he had to be a wizard, his magical aura, which Harry had only began able to notice sometime within the past year, rivaled _Dumbledore's_ - smile did not fade. "As I said, you probably wouldn't have heard of me.... My position is known only to a select few within the Wizarding community."

The Boy-Who-Lived stiffened, "Are you a Ministry official?" he demanded, cursing himself. He shouldn't have thought of that sooner! Who else but a highly ranked Ministry official - or a Death Eater, perhaps, if Lucius Malfoy was any example - would be so regally dressed on a daily basis?

"Not exactly," Mr. Chant replied with an amused glint in his dark gaze. "I work with the Ministry, yes, but I do not work for the Ministry of Magic..." 

Harry shook his head; that didn't make any sense! "I'm sorry, sir," he shook his head, "but I don't understand... Why are you here?"

"I am the Chrestomanci." Mr. Chant replied, his demeanor suddenly becoming much more serious. "And I've been meaning to become acquainted with you, Harry Potter, for quite some time."

"Why?" Harry demanded, his hand going down into his pocket to wrap around his wand.

"You have no reason to be alarmed, Harry." Chant replied, "And, actually, I may be able to help you..."

"How?"

"I have a great deal of influence within the Ministry..."

Harry's heart leapt, "You could stop them from expelling me and breaking my wand?" he asked, his magnificently green eyes shining with hope, pleading...

"Oh, easily..." Chant nodded, "If you wish..."

Harry frowned, why wouldn't he want to go back to Hogwarts? "Wait... why would you want to help me?"

Chant looked at him for a moment, his dark gaze searching, before amusement shone through. "Not much gets by you..." he smiled, "That's good...." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I have a preposition for you..." he held up his hand to forestall any protests. "You don't have to agree to anything yet, but if you're willing to hear me out, I give you my word that you will be able to return to Hogwarts."

Harry thought about it a moment, and then nodded.

The older wizard smiled. "Thank you. Now," he glanced around, "this isn't exactly the best place for this, so would you mind coming to my estate?" he requested, holding out his hand.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry nodded, and took the proffered hand.

There was no loud, echoing crack that accompanied their sudden disappearance. Only silence, which continued to reign throughout the empty park for quite some time afterward... 

~ * ~

'The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black' located on number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London wasn't really the type place you would expect to find a gathering of some of the finest witches and wizards of the age, who were dedicated to the preservation of the Wizarding World. It's battered front door, grimy windows and dirty walls would lead most people to believe it to be quite deserted. 

It was also currently home to (almost) the entire Weasley family and Hermione Granger. While several many members of the Order did occasionally spend the night, the Weasley, Hermione, and Sirius Black; the house's owner, were the only regular occupants. It was a rather rare occasion that one might find the _entire_ Order present... And that occasion was now, the second full meeting since this group's second formation in session, located in the Black dining room.

"Well... Has anything worth telling happened lately?" Nymphadora Tonks, one of the youngest members of the Order, who had always preferred to be known by her surname only, inquired, her pale, heart-shaped face curious. 

Headmaster Dumbledore smiled, shaking his head slightly, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement at the young witch's bluntness. "Order, order." He called, eyeing the other members who were crowded into the room. "Now, in answer to Nymphadora's-"

"_Tonks!_" she insisted, not looking the least bit perturbed as interrupting the ancient wizard, who continued as if she hadn't said anything.

"-question... I believe there has been _very_ little as of late."

Emmeline Vance complained, an elegant lady in her late fifties, nodded drawing her deep green shawl back up around her shoulders. "There has been nothing in my area." She agreed, referring to the high-management level that she worked at within the Ministry, supervising the government along side the Minister. "Aside from more talk of 'Fudge's brilliant campaign'..." She scoffed, this time referring to the heavy pressure Fudge had been 'secretly' placing on the Daily Prophet to turn it into a complete 'rumor mill' to discredit Dumbledore, Hogwarts... and Harry Potter.

Professor McGonagall's beady eyes narrowed in agreement, and she _almost_ nodded, but not quite.

"Same in my department," Kingsley Shacklebolt agreed. The tall, black wizard, clothed in flawless Ministry robes was a semi-high ranking member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Nothing but gossip, and Fudge's people constantly insisting that nothing is wrong... There _has_ been a slight increase in Dark activity as of late, but it's a _very_ small one..." He sighed, "You'd only see it if you were looking for it."

"Has Voldemort said anything to you, Severus?" Dumbledore inquired of his Potions Master.

"Not at all," Severus Snape, Potions Professor at Hogwarts and Death Eater Spy, sighed. "He doesn't really discussed his plans with _any_ of us... He doesn't really trust us. Although, he has expressed interest in taking Azkaban prison and freeing his '_loyal _followers'..."

"Oh dear," Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts Transfiguration Professor and Deputy Headmistress shook her head at her colleague's statement. "That isn't good..." she looked at the Headmaster, "The Dementors wouldn't put up much of a fight..."

"And that's if they put up _any_..." Alastor, or 'Mad-Eye' Moody put in. "Which they aren't likely to."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, "Which is why-"

Loud pounding on the door interrupted him. Everyone turned toward it, several half-drawing their wands before realizing what it was.

After a moment Mrs. Weasley sighed, rising to her feet and crossing the room. "I'll go see what it is." She offered, smiling apologetically at the Headmaster.

"Thank you, Molly." Dumbledore nodded. 

Then Mrs. Weasley closed the door behind her, but the room remained silent, as everyone waited to see what the 'children' had thought to be important enough to risk Molly Weasley's temper. And this was after she'd already lectured them on 'not interrupting the adults' and they were 'too young' and 'not part of the Order' (because they were too young)...

They were more than a little disturbed when she returned, her red-hair making her pale face seem almost unnatural.

"Molly?" Mr. Weasley asked, rising from his seat to help her to hers. "What is it?"

Silently, she handed him a letter, which was currently folded in half, though the seal had already been broken. It was clearly either a Ministry notice or a single edition of the _Daily Prophet_, if the fine quality of the parchment and the elegant script were any clue.

Mr. Weasley frowned, but nonetheless waved his wand, murmuring "_Tralatum,_" to make several copies of the document. Each of the copies quickly flew over to each person in the room. There were more than a few gasps from around the room as the copies were unfolded.

**__**

Harry Potter - Missing or on the Run?

It was at four minutes to five this morning that Mafalda Hopkirk received intelligence that an ignition charm was performed at Harry Potter's place of residence. As Mr. Potter had already received an official warning for a previous offense, Ms. Hopkirk of the Improper Use of Magic followed Ministry guidelines and expelled the teenager from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

However, when the Ministry officials sent to destroy your wand arrived at his place of residence, they found that the boy not there. His relatives had no idea as to his whereabouts, and were quite insistent that he had not left his room since going up to it after supper the night before. Nonetheless, Mr. Potter was not in that room, nor anywhere in the walking vicinity of his relatives home. The Floo network does not work in the area of his residence, for his own protection, and numerous wards insure that Apparating is quite impossible. Scanning done by a team of Unspeakables proved that no form of transportation passed through the area since twenty-three minutes past ten the night before. And no one had been seen in the area since everyone turned in for the night in the quiet neighborhood.

Was this simply an impossibly well carried out escape by a young wizard on the run, breaking rules as he has so many times before... Or was there a reason for the semi-destructive charm cast early that morning. Was it cast in self-defense?

This reporter wonders just as you and all of the Ministry officials involved do. Could it be possible that Harry Potter, who we all praised for fourteen years as the Boy-Who-Lived and brought about the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was actually telling the truth after the tragic end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament a few short weeks past. Truly, we pray this is not so... But can we afford to doubt, when our young hero may be in the Dark Lord's hands even as I write this article and you read it?

It is with deep regret that this reporter must confess that she will undoubtedly not be permitted to follow up on this story, for this single edition she has issued illegally by that standards set by the Daily Prophet Editors. The Editors agreed some weeks before now to not print "any of Albus Dumbledore's rumors" and nothing that might suggest He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, on the command of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Nonetheless, this reporter knew that this had to be heard, so she overrode the wards placed around the press in order to do so and will undoubtedly be facing charges at a fast approaching date.

Good luck to all, especially to our dear Harry Potter, who this paper has wrong considerably in the past several weeks.

~ Crystal Candida

(Former) Daily Prophet Correspondent

~ * ~

Harry looked around, more than a little surprised when they appeared in what seemed to be the lavatory of a train station.

"Follow me, Harry," Mr. Chant instructed, turning on his heel and leading the way out of the bathroom and into the crowded train station. The crowd didn't seem to bother him in the least, as everyone made way for the finely clad, and friendly, but rather majestic man with an magical aura that Harry could still only compare to Dumbledore's... but something made him think that this man could very well be stronger... but, no... _Surely_ someone would have mentioned something like _that!_

After a few minutes of walking, the pair reached and crossed the main entrance hall.

Harry was more than a little surprised when his companion then led him to the long, black limousine that was parked directly in front of the main entrance. Nonetheless, he followed.

When they neared the car, the front door opened, as the chauffeur stepped out and hurried to open the back door for them.

Chant nodded to him, "Thank you, Thomas."

"My Lord, Chrestomanci," the young man with pale brown hair and hazel eyes replied with a flawless bow. After the older man had entered the car, the chauffeur then offered the clearly bewilder Harry a half-smile-half-grin that the young wizard found oddly reassuring.

Struggling to return the smile, Harry slid into the high-class vehicle and turned his attention its owner.

"All will be explained shortly, Harry," Christopher Chant offered with smile. "My estate isn't far. Now, would you mind telling me why exactly you have been expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Harry frowned, not liking be reminded of the fact. "I... I lost control of my magic..." he replied slowly.

"So?"

"We aren't allowed to do magic outside of school until we graduate," Harry replied, "Because of 'the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery'..."

"Hmm... yes, there is that..." Chant nodded. "But... you said you 'lost control' of your magic. Now, did you cast a spell, or did you lose control of your emotions thereby resulting in a magical reaction?"

"I... I lost control..." the Boy-Who-Lived replied after a moments thought, "I was angry... after reading some letters from my friends..."

"Ah... I see... well, in that case," Chant raised an eyebrow, "There is no reason you shouldn't be able to return to school, not in the case of the decree, any how. Everyone makes mistakes, granted, it's rare that someone is still capable of losing control so severely after four years of magical schooling, but it does happen... So why have you been expelled?"

Harry frowned, and replied only after a few moments thought, "Because Fudge doesn't like me..." he sighed.

"Oh?"

"He thinks I'm crazy... and Professor Dumbledore, too... because he doesn't want to believe that Voldemort is back."

"Ah yes," Chant nodded, "Voldemort's resurrection does put a different spin on things, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded in agreement. And then, he frowned, "Wait... How do-"

"Ah, we're almost there," Chant nodded to the window. "You should be able to see the estate from here, if you wish."

Still frowning, but curious nonetheless, the Boy-Who-Lived turned toward the window, and gasped as he saw the castle they were approaching. And it certainly was a castle, easily comparable to Hogwarts itself. Gray and turreted, the castle sat atop a respectable 'hill'. 

He could see many magnificent trees surrounding it; dark, layered cedars and gigantic elms that stretched toward the sky. 

The large, flawless lawn that surrounded it was dotted with many flowers. And that was only what he could see from a distance, not including what the wall blocked. 

As they neared the gates the wall was basically all he _could_ see: tall and ominous, made of dark gray stone. The large gates that barred entrance were made of all black metal, with the exception of the large and elegant golden '**_C_**' that graced the upper middle.

Once the gates opened and they passed through, Harry could see a long, tree-line avenue that led up the main entrance of the castle. 

Harry got a little nervous as they neared this magnificent entranceway, which would undoubtedly be answered by a butler and maybe footmen as well, if his imagination were any guess.

But they did not stop at this entranceway, much to Harry's relief, but instead continued on down the gray-stone driveway and turned off onto another, partially hidden, and smaller drive. This driveway continued down a short distance until it reached a turnaround. The chauffeur went around halfway, before stopping and getting out to open the door again, to let them out at this smaller entranceway.

"I hope you don't mind," Chant offered as Harry made his way out of the limousine behind him. He nodded to the chaffer, "Thank you, Thomas."

"My Lord," Thomas bowed formally again, before returning to the drivers seat of the limousine and driving away.

"I prefer to go in this way," Chant continued to Harry, nodding to the smaller, but still elegant entryway. "I find the main entrance... a little daunting at times..."

Harry shrugged, "I don't mind." Actually, he was a _lot_ more comfortable going in this way. He thought this door looked more homey. He followed the older man inside, into the entrance hall on the other side. 

Now, Harry was _very_ happy they'd come in this way... If this was the lower entrance hall, he could only imagine what the main one was like!

The superlatively polished wood floor glimmer in the early morning light, covered partially by magnificent Persian carpets of the finest standard, with large crystal vases of exquisitely arranged bouquets decorated the walls. 

The young wizard's attention, however, was drawn to the (imposing) lady, whose midnight-black hair was piled atop her head, stood by the side of a large doorway that probably led the hallway. She swept a impeccable curtsy as they neared, drawing her dark purple skirts out slightly as the dark-black robes flowed out behind her. "My Lord Chrestomanci," she murmured.

"This is Miss Bessemer, my housekeeper." Mr. Chant introduced. "Maud, this is Harry Potter."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter," the regal housekeeper offered him a slight curtsy as well. "And welcome to Chrestomanci Castle."

Harry bowed in return, not really wanting to speak, as he wasn't sure he'd be able to.

"Follow me, please, Harry."

Obediently, Harry followed Mr. Chant through the archway, up some stairs and into the corridor.

~ * ~

An aphonic silence hung over the room. It wasn't until the Headmaster decided to speak that that silence was broken.

"It would seem," Dumbledore murmured, his quiet words carrying in the small, noiseless room. "That we owe Miss Candida a great deal of gratitude."

"And an invitation to join the Order," Professor McGonagall nodded. "What she did was very brave."

The Hogwarts Headmaster nodded, "Yes..." he agreed, "It was indeed. We may never be able to repay her, if this story is as effective as I predict it to be..."

"It should be very effective," Shacklebolt offered. "Candida was highly respected, as reporters go..."

"So she may have now accomplished what we have been trying to do these many weeks." Madam Vance nodded, shaking her head.

"Indeed, Emmeline," Dumbledore nodded, "indeed..."

"Voldemort isn't going to like this..." Remus Lupin offered, his extremely pale blue eyes considerate.

"No, he will not." Snape agreed, not appearing to pay any mind to the fact that he was agreeing with the man he'd had a hand in running out of Hogwarts only a little over a year before. "He will undoubtedly be severely displeased, by both aspects of the story."

"Both... what do you mean, Professor?" Tonks inquired, after a moment's silence.

"Well, as it appears all of you have forgotten," Snape replied, "The article will undoubtedly alert the magical community, but that wasn't what it was about."

Everyone stared at him for a moment, clearly bewildered. They then looked back at the article, and upon rereading the title, remembered.

"Oh, Merlin!" Mrs. Weasley gasped. "_Harry!_" 

~ * ~

As he followed Christopher Chant down the corridor in Chrestomanci Castle, Harry decided that he had never seen anything so luxurious in his life. A soft, green carpet; like grass in the dewy morning, rested on wooden floor that was polished so finely that it seemed to reflect the carpet and the clean why walls, along with the pictures that hung on those walls. They were clearly Wizarding paintings, as their subjects moved, just like in all of the other Wizarding paintings and photos Harry had seen to date.

Chant led the way into a large, airy room with one wall that one might think was entirely glass, because of the many windows along it, which offered a spectacular view of a lovely lake that appeared to be part of the estate. The table was positioned in the middle of the room took up most of the room, and there were at least sixty well-cushioned chairs around it.

Harry took the seat his host gestured to, and a moment later a large variety of breakfast foods appeared on the table. 

One plate bore many stacks of pancakes, while another bore waffles, several others bore eggs prepared in different ways, others bore fruit while others bore bacon and different types of sausage. Syrup and butter were there, as well as jam and marmalade for the toast. 

Harry didn't hesitate because of the sudden appearance, he was relatively used to that. He had, after all, been eating meals at Hogwarts while attending the last four years. He simply wasn't sure what to do in this situation... Chant, however he wished to be seen, was clearly a powerful, important person, and not someone Harry wanted to offend.

"Help yourself," Chant offered, seeing Harry's hesitation. 

After a few more moments, Harry took a stack of pancakes and two pieces of toast. He didn't say anything as he poured syrup onto the pancakes, watching as 'Lord Chant' prepared his own meal.

"Now," Chant began, after several minutes of silence. "You must be wondering why I brought you here."

Harry nodded.

"The answer would be simple, if you knew who I was, but you don't. So I suppose a bit of a history lesson is required..." Chant sighed, thinking for a moment, before continuing. "Do you believe in the existence of alternate dimensions, Harry? Parallel universes?"

The teenager frowned. He'd never really though about it... Well, magic existed, so it wasn't too difficult to believe in parallel universes. So, he nodded.

"Good," Chant nodded. "What do you believe keeps these dimensions separate?"

Harry thought a moment, then replied. "Some type of barrier, I suppose..."

Again, his host nodded, "Yes... good, good... Now, suppose these barriers were, essentially, magic. It would be possible for anyone capable of controlling magic to cross them, yes?" 

After receiving another nod, accompanied by a slight frown, Chant continued.

"So what keeps them from doing so?"

"The barriers are too strong?" Harry guessed.

Chant smiled, "Well, there is that... but the barriers are only so strong. Therefore, if someone, or someone_s_ were strong enough, they should be able to cross the barriers."

Harry frowned, but nodded in agreement.

"So what prevents that from happening?"

"Well... You'd have to know how, and not many people know that there are other worlds at all, let only how to cross the barriers that separate them..."

"Yes." Chant agreed, "But someone's bound to find out sooner or later... What then?"

Harry took another bite of his syrup-soaked-pancakes, chewed it, and swallowed it, before replying. "There must be something, someone, or several someone's that keep that from happening.... A guardian..."

After several moments of silence, Chant nodded, and smiled. "The Chrestomanci."

Harry blinked, "What?"

"There are thousands of worlds, all different from ours," Chant began, his voice strong, and confident, ringing with truth. "Some are full of people working magic; wizards, witches, warlocks, thaumaturges, sorcerers, fakirs, conjurors, shamans, diviners and whatnot. And, of course: enchanters." Chant raised his hand when Harry would have commented. "Enchanters are both strange, and powerful. Gifted with magic that is different and stronger than others. Many of them," he continued, "have more than one life..."

Here, Harry blinked, but stopped himself from commenting, as he wanted to hear more.

"The very strongest type of enchanter has at least nine lives and is known as 'the _Chrestomanci_'. They have a very strong personality as well as _very_ strong magic, which they agree to use to guard the barriers and offer what protection and guidance they can, to the worlds that need them." Seeing Harry's searching look the Chrestomanci nodded. "Yes, Harry. I am the current Chrestomanci.... Which is why I sought you out..."

End of Prologue. 

Translations:

Minuere - to make smaller/lessen

Tralatum - to copy 

Candida - honest, with the suggestion of beauty...."Of time or fortune"

AN: Well, that's it for the Prologue! What'd you think so far? Great, good, ok, bad, really bad? Tell me! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! The more REVIEW's I get the sooner I'll update (of course, that's if the REVIEW's are encouraging...) Anyway, I'll try to update soon! Thanks for reading!

Bye! ^_^

~ Jess S


	2. Chapter 1: Questions & Answers

Disclaimer: I own the plot, I apologize if it's been done before. 

The _Harry Potter_ Series belongs to _J.K. Rowling_.

_The Chronicles of Chrestomanci_ belong to _Diana Wynne Jones_.  
  
AN: Hi everybody! 

Sorry about the wait! But here's the next installment. And, as you probably came here to read _that_, and not me babbling, I'll just turn you over to the story! Enjoy! ^_^

**Harry Potter and the Chrestomanci **

by Jess S__

  
**Chapter 1: Questions and Answers**

"Nothing? What do you mean, _'nothing'?!_" Mrs. Weasley demanded, her voice more then a bit shrill. "There has to be _something we can do! We have to find him!"_

"Molly," Mr. Weasley attempted to reason his wife, "he couldn't be _anywhere by now--"_

"That's why we should be looking! Not sitting around here doing _nothing!" the redhead finished, turning back to Professor Dumbledore and opening her mouth to say something, but stopping and snapping is shut when she saw that he had raised a hand for silence._

"Your point is well seen, Molly," the Hogwarts Headmaster told her kindly. "We're all worried. However, we can't let this distract us from the Order's primary objective, and we don't have any idea, as of yet, of where to begin."

"Well there..." Mrs. Weasley shook her head, "There has to be _something we can do!"_

Dumbledore nodded, "We shall begin looking for him, and--" He stopped suddenly, his eyes narrowing on his Potions Master as the man stood up abruptly and began making his way to the door. "You are called, Severus?"

Professor Snape nodded, his lips pressed in a firm line. This was undoubtedly to hold back a pained cry, brought on by the Dark Mark's bite. 

After a moment nodded, the headmaster granted his leave. "Best of luck to you then, my boy. Come back to us safely."

The Head of Slytherin House nodded abruptly before spinning around, swinging the door open and swooping out into the hallway. He paid no mind to the sounds of feet hurrying up the stairwell, probably because he honestly didn't care, but he may have also not noticed it due to the pain he was in.

Several moments passed before the silence was broken.

"We're going to start looking for Harry, then?" Sirius asked, his eyes pleading.

"I will have agents on the look out for him," Dumbledore told him, "but you must stay here, Sirius. There is little safety for you outside these walls." He ignored the younger wizard's glare as he rose to his feet, "And I think that I shall go have a chat with Cornelius."

~ * ~

"Me?" Harry blinked, clearly confused. "What does all of that have to do with _me?"_

The Chrestomanci shook his head, smiling slightly. "I should think it would be rather obvious, considering the events and information that have preceded us."

The 'Boy-Who-Lived' stared at him for several moments, no less confused then before, when a light seemed to come on in his glittering orbs. He shook his head, frowning, "No... It can't be... _I_ **_can't_** be..."

"A nine-lived-enchanter?" Chant offered, still smiling pleasantly. "But you are, Harry.... How else would you explain some of the more peculiar events of your life?"

"But...it's impossible..." Harry shook his head, "There's nothing really special about me...Why would..._How_ could **_I_** have _nine_ lives?"

The elder man eyed him dourly, and the obvious amusement that had been present in his tone before was replaced by austreness. "You _don't_ have nine lives," he told him.

Harry blinked, "But, you said--"

"You currently have five lives," the Chrestomanci continued, "You _must **_never_ forget that. When you were originally born, you had nine lives. But, at various points in time, you lost four of them."**_

"Lost them?" Harry blinked, again, and didn't continue until a moment later, when he seemed to have made the connection. "You mean I've died four times?"

"Yes," Chant nodded, sighing. "Now, please, listen to what I have to say." He waited for Harry to nod compliantly, before continuing. "People with nine lives are _very_ important, and **_very_ rare. They only happen when, for one reason or another, there are no counterparts of them living in any other world. Then the lives that would have been spread out over a whole set of worlds get concentrated in one person. And so do all the talents that those eight other people might have had..."**

Harry frowned, "So that's why I'm so good at Quidditch and DADA?"

"Not necessarily.... As to the Quidditch, I had the pleasure of watching your father fly at a few of the Hogwarts' Quidditch Cup's, he _was quite good, and I've heard a number of people comment say that your mother wasn't a bad flyer, herself." Chant paused, then shook his head slightly. "Your admirable performance in Defense is probably effected, but that doesn't mean that, as a single-lived-wizard, you wouldn't be a good Seeker whose best subject in school happened to be Defense against the Dark Arts."_

"But I haven't any talents outside of those two." The fifteen year old was frowning again, "Not really..."

"You do," Chant told him, smiling slightly, "You just haven't found them yet. At least one of them has already revealed itself, from time to time, yet nowhere near its full potency."

"What'd you mean?"

"_Power, Harry... **_your_ _power_. There isn't any magical being -- be they witch, wizard, warlock, or any other member of our magical populace -- who can compare to a true enchanter in power. Your power, your magical ability as an enchanter _has_, I'm sure revealed itself from time to time, has it not?"**_

"If you mean when I was younger," Harry frown deepened in concentration. "Not really...I mean, all Wizarding children lose control of their magic when they're emotions are running high...don't they?"

"Yes," the enchanter agreed. "However, they don't lose control anywhere near as often as an enchanter is prone to, unless of course something is restraining them...But that wasn't what I was referring to, Mr. Potter."

It only took a moment for the Boy-Who-Lived to figure it out. "...You mean...when Voldemort...?"

"It was on October thirty-first, nineteen-eighty-one at Godric's Hollow that you lost your first life. Due, of course, to the _Avada Kedavra_ curse that Tom Riddle cast upon you...With time, and training, as an enchanter, you can learn to block the Killing Curse."

"But I thought it _couldn't_ be blocked..."

"Only Enchanters can block it," the older man replied, sipping his tea.

"Oh..." Harry sighed softly, looking down at his plate with a small frown on his face. He wasn't really overly hungry any more.

It wasn't all that hard to tell why. Since the end of first year, when he'd spoken to Dumbledore, he'd always assumed that it _was_ his mother's love that'd saved him and destroyed the Dark Lord that night... That was one of the only ways he could really measure how much his parents must've loved him...

"Is something the matter, Harry?" the Chrestomanci's kind voice broke into his thoughts.

"Wha--?" Harry looked up, blinking repeatedly. "What--Oh, oh! No! Not at--" he stopped at the look his host gave him, and sighed. "I'd always thought that it was my mother that'd killed Voldemort that night..." he told him quietly.

"Ahh... I see," Chant smiled kindly, nodding his head gently. "Professor Dumbledore, no doubt, told you that he assumed it was your mother's love that saved you?"

"Y-Yes..." the Boy-Who-Lived nodded after a moment's pause.

"Well, it certainly helped," the Chrestomanci told him. "and, I believe it _did help you a short time past, concerning the events enshrouding the (Philosopher's/Sorcerer's) Stone."_

Harry blinked, looking at the enchanter again. "You mean I died there, too?"

"Yes," the enchanter shook his head. "You lost your first life when Voldemort murdered your parents, your second at the end of your first year at Hogwarts. And you received your third mortal blow in the Chamber of Secrets."

"But..." Harry frowned deeply, shaking his head in consternation. "I **_couldn't_** have _died_ there! I was conscious the entire time!"

"Only because you had more then one life to spare, and you so dearly wanted to stop Mr. Riddle and save young Miss. Weasley. If you were not an Enchanter, with the advantage of multiple lives, you would have died mere moments after the Basilisk's fang pierced your skin, as occurs with everyone else..."

"So...I died there?" Harry shook his head, frowning.

**_~ Flashback ~_**

_...As warm blood drenched his arms, he felt a searing pain just above his elbow. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into his arm. It splintered as the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor._

_Harry slid down the wall. At the same time, he grabbed the fang, which was spreading poison through his body, and quickly wrenched it out of his arm. _

_But he knew it was too late. _

_White-hot pain was spreading slowly and steadily from the wound. Even as he dropped the fang, and watched his own blood soaking his robes, his vision was foggy. The Chamber was dissolving in a whirl of dull color._

_A patch of scarlet swam past, and Harry heard a soft clatter of claws beside him. "Fawkes," he murmured, his voice heavy and worn. "You were fan...fantastic, Fawkes...." He stopped, breathing heavily, barely aware of when the bird laid its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced him._

_He was, however, slightly more aware of the echoing footsteps that approached him, and the dark shadow that moved in front of him. Followed shortly by Riddle's triumphant voice. He was to out of it to make out everything the 'older boy' said, but he did catch the gist of it._

_"You're dead...Potter," Riddle told him, from somewhere above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird... Do you see...Potter? ...Crying."_

_Harry blinked slowly, watching as Fawkes head slid in and out of focus. He could just barely make out the thick, pearly tears that were trickling down the magnificent creature's glossy feathers._

_"I'm going to...watch you die...Potter.... No hurry...."_

_Now, Harry felt drowsy, and everything around him seemed to be spinning. _

_"...Ends...Harry Potter...Alone...Chamber of...defeated at last by the Dark... unwisely challenged.... be back with your dear, Mudblood mother soon, Harry... She bought...borrowed time...but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must..."_

_'_If this is dying,_' Harry thought, 'it's not so bad...__'_

_Even the pain was leaving him..._

_But was he dying? Instead of going black, the Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus._

_Harry gave his head a little shake, and there was Fawkes, still resting his head on Harry's arm. A pearly patch of tears was shining all around the wound --- except that there **was no wound....**_

**_~ End of Flashback ~_******

"Remember?"

"But phoenix tears have healing powers!" Harry objected, "Fawkes took care of the poison."

"Yes," Chrestomanci agreed, "he did." He raised a hand to forestall any comment his young guest might make, and continued after a moment's silence. "_Very_ few things can cure the poison of a Basilisk... The poison will kill a mortal almost instantly, thanks to its magical nature. It _can **kill**_ an Enchanter, for it will remain in their blood and continue taking the Enchanter's lives until there are none left... If, by some miracle, the poison is nullified in time, the Enchanter should always know to check, to see how many lives they have left, because the venom is quite capable of taking more than one, depending how much is in the blood. If the Enchanter was _bitten_, then it almost certainly took more than one life...In your case, luckily, it did not."

"So... Fawkes's tears didn't cure me of the poison?"

"No, they did.... The phoenix's tears cleaned the Basilisk's venom out of your bloodstream, thereby saving your _fourth_ life, as it otherwise would have been present there."

"It would've killed me again?"

"Yes."

"Oh..." Harry blinked, then shook his head, offering a slightly bemused grin. "So, I'm guessing Enchanters don't like Basilisks?"

"They are one of our few weaknesses, yes..."

"So, now I have six lives left?"

"No... You have five. It shouldn't be all that hard for you to figure out where the fourth went."

And, indeed, it only took a moment for his magnificent eyes to darken several shades, as he himself became noticeably tense. 

**_~ Flashback ~_**

_"**Bone of the Father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"**_

_The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked, and Harry watched, horrified, as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water within the cauldron broke and hissed, sending sparks in all directions before turning a vivid, poisonous-looking blue. _

_Wormtail was whimpering as he pulled a long, thin, and shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. The next verse of the spell was broken by petrified sobs._

_"**Flesh -- of the servant -- w-willingly given -- you will -- re-revive -- your m-master..."**_

_As he finished saying this, the traitor stretched his right hand, the one that was missing a finger, out in front of him. After a brief pause, he gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung upward._

_Harry only realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened. That only gave him enough time to squeeze his eyes shut. Closing his eyes, however couldn't block the scream that pierced the night, ringing through Harry as though he, too, had been pierced by the dagger. He heard something fall to the ground, and he heard Wormtail's anguished panting, before a sickening splash signaled something being dropped into the cauldron._

_Harry couldn't stand to look...but the potion had turned a burning red; the light of which shone through his closed eyelids...._

_Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony, but it wasn't until he felt the traitor's breath on his face that he realized that Wormtail was right in front of him._

_"**B-blood of the enemy...f-forcibly t-taken...you w-will...r-resurrect your foe."**_

_He couldn't do anything to prevent it, he was tied too tightly...._

_Squinting down, struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding him, he saw the silver dagger shaking in Wormtail's remaining hand. He felt its point penetrate the crook of his right arm and blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes._

_Wormtail, still panting with pain, fumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it. He then staggered back to the cauldron with the final ingredient, and poured it inside._

_The liquid within instantly changed to a blinding white._

_Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, the slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing._

_The cauldron was simmering as it sent sparks in all directions, so **bright** that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened...._

_'_Let it have drowned,_' Harry thought weakly, scarcely noticing the throbbing pain in his arm as he stared at the cauldron. 'Let it have gone wrong...._'__

_And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished, and was quickly followed by a surge of white steam that billowed thickly from the cauldron instead..._

_He couldn't see anything through the heavy vapor..._

_'_It's gone wrong,_' he thought '...it's drowned... please... please let it be dead..._'__

_But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outlining of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron._

_"Robe me," a high, cold voice commanded from behind the steam._

_Wormtail, sobbing and moaning -- still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground. He then got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head._

_The thin man then stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry...and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and nose that was as flat as a snake's, with slits for nostrils..._

_Lord Voldemort had risen again..._

**_~ End of Flashback ~_**

"Voldemort...? When he was reborn?"

Chrestomanci nodded gravely. "An ordinary mortal has never survived that ritual, nor should they... The person that is being restored _needs_ a full life force for the ritual to be successful. Particularly if they are being resurrected. If a life is not given, the summoned shall not return... It is possible that that life force will come from the servant, who is supposed to be willing, rather than the unwilling enemy, but it is _very_ unusual for both to survive..."

"But...Wormtail survived too...and I didn't feel _anything_, well, aside from the wound..."

"Shock," Chrestomanci told him, shrugging lightly. "Both of you survived because you are an enchanter, one who had lives to spare. Therefore, Voldemort _did take you life, it just didn't seem like it, because you really didn't feel anything through the shock. The dark-spell itself obviously skipped over your chance at fighting for your life, granting you a death that was so fast that you didn't feel it at all through the shock..." _

~ * ~

They didn't know why, but for some reason the Voldemort that sat before them now, silently fuming as he glared bright red eyes as the _Daily Prophet special-edition article in his hands, seemed far stronger than the Voldemort they remembered. It may be that he simply was able to learn more of the Dark Arts in between his fall and his resurrection... but the more clever Death Easters didn't really think that that was so. There was just something different about him... Something that made him far stronger than before..._

Which was even more noticeable when he was as angry as he was now...

"So...It seems that the Potter-brat has managed to make a nuisance of himself, even away from the Muggle-lover's watch." Voldemort hissed, spending a moment more simply glaring at the illegally printed article. Then he threw it out towards him, simply watching as it burst into flames, so that all that landed were the ashy remains. Raising his head again, slightly, he glared around the circle. "And what of you, my _loyal_ followers?" he inquired his demonic voice no longer the high-pitched note it had been several weeks before, but a deep, dark hiss. It was only through firm self-control that his followers managed to hold steady, rather than draw back from the biting sarcasm in his tone. "I wonder what you make of this..." he looked around the circle, "Avery?"

The indicated Death Eater started, before hurriedly drawing himself together and stepping forward to bow. "My lord?"

"This does present some danger to us." 

"Yes, my lord."

"What are those dangers, Avery?"

Several moments silence ensued as the pureblooded-idiot tried desperately to think of a reply.

Voldemort looked down at him from atop his silver throne. "I asked you a question, Avery. Answer it."

"I-I..." Now the wizard was trembling. "I...do not know...my lord."

"You don't know?" the Dark Lord repeated, his demonic gaze focused on the trembling man before him as he raised his wand to focus on the man. "Very well then, _Crucio_."

With that the younger wizard collapsed to the floor, curling into a tight ball. His cries of agony were partially muffled by the mask he wore, but they nonetheless echoed around the room eerily. But only for a moment. For the Dark Lord appeared to tire of hearing them rather quickly, as he muttered something while waiving his wand, and the screams stopped. Whatever spell he'd cast clearly wasn't meant to end his servant's pain, as the man was still curled up on the floor, trembling with agony. It must have been some type of silencing charm, then.

"Malfoy..."

Lucius Malfoy quickly came forward, moving around his writhing associate with a panther's innate grace, before bowing to his master. "My Lord?"

"Perhaps you will deign to answer my question..."

The Malfoy Lord was a blonde, but he was no fool, and therefore knew that he had no choice to pull problems out of thin air. Fortunately, however, they weren't all that hard to see. "Yes, my lord." [AN: I have _nothing_ against blondes, but I just couldn't resist, though technically most people don't think of the 'dumb blonde' label fitting guys. But I liked it, so :-P]

"Good," the Heir of Slytherin nodded his approval of this answer, which had been offered with a bow. "Proceed, then."

"A number of problems may arise from this incident. The most obvious one would be that the Potter boy may gain sympathy for Dumbledore and his followers, which might make keeping your return a secret dangerous rather then beneficial, my Lord."

"Indeed it may… What do you propose we _do_ with this situation, Lucius?"

This was one of the things that made these meetings so dangerous. The Dark Lord liked to test his followers continually, in many different ways. It served to test their abilities, as well as root out those who weren't entirely loyal. 

The Slytherin Alumni knew that he was being tested. It would be foolish to think that the Heir of Slytherin might actually ask _anyone_, even a Malfoy, for advice. But this test wasn't _too_ complex, and it wasn't surprising, either, as is came up a few times every meeting.

The Dark Lord would ask questions, some of which made absolutely no sense. He liked to see how his followers worked things out. If you weren't up to par, well…too bad for you.

But it was usually the Ravenclaws among them that were caught with this particular weakness. _Not **Slytherins**_, and certainly not _Malfoy's_.

"It would undoubtedly be good to discover where Mr. Potter's hidden…there's no real _need_ to do anything else…."

"Indeed…" after a moment's pause, the Dark Lord nodded his approval. "That is your task, Lucius. Go."

"My lord," Malfoy bowed deeply to show his acceptance.

~ * ~

"I can't hear _anything!_" Ron complained in a loud whisper, glancing over at the stares where the twins were standing, he could see both Ginny and Hermione a short ways up the staircase, the latter of the two fidgeting anxiously. Hermione'd never liked breaking rules, and she probably never would.

"You can't?" One of the twins, he thought it was Fred, asked.

"Damn," the other shook his head, "Mum must've put extra wards up again!"

Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes, sharing a look.

"Of _course_ she put wards up!"

"Dolts," Ginny added at the end of Hermione's mini-tirade.

"Hey!" all three boys complained.

~ * ~

Harry was still frowning, but after a moment, he shook his head, his curiosity winning out, "How rare _are_ enchanters?"

"Extremely rare," said Chrestomanci. "Apart from you, the only other person with nine lives that I know of in this world is myself."

"Really?" Harry was both slightly pleased and even more interested. "Nine?"

"I did have nine. I've only got two now. I was careless, and almost as unlikely as you," Chrestomanci said. He sounded a little ashamed. "Now I have to take care to keep each life separately in the safest place I can think of. I advise you to do that same."

The-Boy-Who-Technically-Didn't-Live thought about this for several moments, his eyes not really taking in any of the food left on his half-filled plate, as he thought back on the losses of his first four lives. He continued to mechanically eat, as he remembered. Now that he thought about it, it was kind strange... Those four incidences, which resulted in dying four times, were some of his most vivid memories.... Maybe it _was_ because they were the ends of one life and the beginnings of others... 

But, no... He couldn't be an enchanter...

He couldn't _do_ anything special, not really. If he were a nine-lived-enchanter, or a five-lived-enchanter, or whatever, shouldn't he be special? Shouldn't he be able to do things that other people couldn't? Quidditch and DADA were really the only things he was naturally good at, and the Chrestomanci had already explained them away...

"I'm not mistaken, Harry." His host told him, breaking the silence that had hung around the breakfast parlor for some time. "You _are_ an enchanter, one of the few that is strong enough to become the Chrestomanci."

"Why?"

Chant sighed, shaking his head, a slight smile gracing his fine features. "...Chrestomanci _has_ to be a nine-lived-enchanter. No one else is strong enough for the post."

"Post?" Harry frowned. "Isn't it a hereditary title then? Someone actually assigns you to it?"

"Each Chrestomanci must find an heir at some point. Someone capable of holding the position. All of the people who work for me are technically government officials, as am I, all of them from different worlds that are at least partially aware of the existence of the barriers and the Chrestomanci."

"So I have to become your heir?"

"No," the older man sighed, "of course you don't _have to, it's your choice. Like I said, if you want to return to Hogwarts and continue your Wizarding education, although I'm quite sure that you'll quickly find that it isn't enough to control your power, I will help you return to there.... If you were willing to, though, it would make things quite a bit easier for me. I've already searched  this world, and all of the other worlds that are 'in the know' about this, and you're the only one fit for the part. If you don't want to take the job, I'll have the difficult task of going through the many worlds that are completely ignorant of all things the Chrestomanci takes part in, some of them are even ignorant of magic."_

After a few moments, Harry shook his head, "I'd like to help, but.... What do you want me to _do?_" he asked. "I don't know how to do _anything_."

"I know," Chant replied, smiling slightly. "I felt the same when they told me..."

_End of Chapter 1_

**AN: Well, that's it for Chapter 1! What'd you think?**

**I'm sorry about not posting in so long…I had a few problems with writing in general and FanFiction.Net. Apparently I broke one of their rules, so they wouldn't let me update for several weeks… That's why I decided to look for different places to post my stories. This is also being posted at Forever Fandom (). **

**Anyway, I'll try to post the next chapter MUCH sooner….Of course, if I don't get any reviews/get flamed, I  can't guarantee that… I might get depressed again… So please REVIEW!!!**

**Response to reviews****:**

**Yllyana** - Thanks, I'm glad you thinks so. 

Did you get a chance to read the book, yet? It really is very good.

**Everpresent -** LOL, thank you… You know? Sometimes even I don't know… 

Don't worry, I love Consanguina far too much to forget it, although I have had a bit of trouble updating recently.

They were good, weren't they? I haven't read all of them, yet. So I'll probably be a bit off on more then a few things, but I've liked what I've seen so far. 

**Bob **- LOL, I haven't read any of them in awhile either… I've been meaning to go back to them for awhile. Nonetheless, the idea for this popped into my head one day, and, I thought that it made enough sense to start a story, so I did. 

Glad to hear it. ^_^

Hmm, not too far off on the life count. But I wanted it to be a little bit less obvious then that.

**Lady SallyRose -** Glad to hear it! ^_^

LOL, don't worry. I wouldn't be able to pronounce it either, if there wasn't a note in the front of the book that _tells_ you how to pronounce it. [KREST - OH - MAN - SEE]****

**Wytil -** *blink**blink* LOL!!!

Yes, I think I can manage that… V-Star and I have been having _quite_ a bit of trouble with the current chapter for Lady Serenity, but it's coming along. (Honestly, I think we're getting a bit tired of it…the sequel's more appealing to our creativity…)

Consanguina's coming along too; it'll probably be ready before LS. That's the problem with writing a story with another author. There are times when your schedule's just don't mesh enough to work on writing… But we manage…

I don't mind. I mean, sure, I wouldn't refuse any money that was offered (if I could legally accept it, which I can't), but I really just love writing, so the reviews are enough. 

**Bookchan 2003-08-22 1 -** To be honest, the idea for this really just came out of nowhere. I'd never considered it before the concept popped into my head. So imagine my surprise when I realized just how _well_ they fit! 

Sorry about the wait… I've been having some problems with the site, and writing in general… 

Dark Lord of Derkholm? OK, thanks, I'll give it a try. ^_^

**.... -** …Umm…OK…Where did I say that? I tried finding it…but I didn't see it anywhere in the previous chapter. I refer to the series as the _Chronicles of Chrestomanci_, as that's what I thought they were called… 

**Blit -** ^_^*** Hello…

Well, glad I was able to provide some entertainment. V-Star and I are working on Lady Serenity, but for some reason the current chapter just won't go together…bit annoying, really…

*Blushes* Thank you. ^_^

LOL, I get confused sometimes, but outlines help…

Of course, I also try to make sure all of the stories are different enough that confusing them would take quite a bit of work. I've actually tried mixing some of the stories before…that was **_strange…_**

LOL, yes, we (authors) need to work on that, don't we? :-D (Of course, all the rules FF.Net's been throwing up, don't help, but…what can you do?)

**Thelvyn** - Thank you. 

Yup! See! *Points at chapter* Continuing! :-D

**Arianne - **I'm glad you think so. ^_^

Are the other books as good as the first one? I keep meaning to read them, (I finally managed to get my hands on a copy a few weeks ago -- I couldn't find it in Borders, before!) but I tend to be short on time…

**Lady Cinnibar -** …*blink**blink* LOL…

Thank you…I suppose I should apologize for the wait, but my 'insidious brain' seems to think that wouldn't fit the character you paint. So I'm not sorry. :-P 

But I hope you're enjoying the story anyway. ^_^

**Wanderingwolf -** Yes…eventually…

**Alex²** - Thank you…

-_-* Believe me, you _don't_ want me to state all of the reasons this took so long to update…

But I _AM_ continuing! See! *points up at chapter* 

I'm not abandoning! NO! NO! NO!

**June -** It does, doesn't it? ^_^

Thank you! ^_^

**Thanks to****:**

**Tana**

**Princess Hermione3**

**Katrina**

**Serpent of Light**

**Kathleen - LOL ^_^**

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**Liberty Belleview**

**Viridis**

**Rachel A. Prongs**

**Ella**

**Wintersong******

**Vicious Lily******

**Howling wolf1******

**Phoenix Lumen******

**BladeLiger786**

**Bye! ^_^**

**~ Jess S**


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